


A Rather Unusual Day

by writerinthedark (wintermelonbubbletea)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canon Era, Comfort, During Canon, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Military, Mustang's Team, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Royai - Freeform, Trauma, Women in the Military, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintermelonbubbletea/pseuds/writerinthedark
Summary: Colonel Roy Mustang and his officers are oddly productive in their paperwork, while First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye seemed distracted.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	A Rather Unusual Day

**Author's Note:**

> I think the tags are spoilers, but I identified them in case this work would be triggering to some. Rest assured there are no graphic depictions of trauma. It's only implied here.

Breaking the busy silence permeating the office air, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye pushed the chair back as she stood. "I'm picking up some documents at the Records Department," the female officer announced without sparing a split-second to glance up from her desk.

Hawkeye didn't even bother giving anyone in the team a chance to respond; she darted to the door as soon as she finished her declaration.

The men would've easily suspected something was amiss in Hawkeye's behavior. But it was a rather unusual day for the unit, who only two nights ago captured some big fish in the illegal arms trade. The strategic planning was a rigorous, tedious process, but it was a necessary evil for a well-implemented operation. The success gave everyone ample boost in their productivity, especially in their dedication to finish the required paperwork. Even Colonel Roy Mustang who slacked off in the face of documentary tasks busied himself at his desk the entire day — much to the delight of his lieutenant, or so was it expected.

Yet, Mustang easily noticed that the only officer who would find bliss in this odd spurt of collective efficiency in the workplace was distracted.

He heard it in the way the chair scratched the floor as Hawkeye hastily pushed it back when she rose from her seat. The lieutenant was always mindful of her environment; especially that afternoon, doing something, anything, that could disturb her teammates' rare focus would be a terrible sin. 

It was in the way she failed to straighten her posture when she stood, and how she didn't even try to alert herself of where the other officers placed their attention. Hawkeye always noticed the little things: how Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc jammed his third cigarette butt in an hour onto the glass ashtray one of his ex-girlfriends gave him, how often Sergeant Kain Fuery furrowed his brows while fixing an old radio, which sandwich Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda consumed today, or what book Warrant Officer Vato Falman was reading that week. Hawkeye always noticed the little things. And when it comes to the lieutenant, Mustang noticed the little things just as well.

Though concerned, Mustang dismissed his worry and decided to trust that Hawkeye always managed. Moments like these were scarce but not uncommon, and when they did happen, they were usually due to little discomforts: like an itch on her left calf that could easily be relieved by a gentle scratch — Hawkeye was too private to even admit to getting a mosquito bite — or a headache to be remedied by some ibuprofen. Mustang worried every time, of course, but he knew the lieutenant needed some time to herself every now and then to decompress.

It wasn't until half an hour later that Mustang began to panic. His men, too intent on finishing the day's assignment, hadn't noticed how long it had been since Hawkeye left. But every passing minute without his adjutant's company was torture for the colonel. He mentally traced the hallways leading to the Records Department where Hawkeye said she was headed, calculating the time needed to get there, to request for and retrieve the needed documents, and to walk back to the cramped office. It shouldn't have taken this long, Mustang thought, so he decided to set off, hunt down the object of his concern, and see for himself if there was any trouble.

His boots brought him to the Records Department, but the officer on duty said he hadn't seen Hawkeye throughout the day. Mustang walked towards the gun range, a sanctuary for the sharpshooter in his team, but there, too, Hawkeye hadn't set foot. Understandable, he mused. After all, the lieutenant wouldn't need an excuse, let alone a lie, to be here. He led himself to the courtyard where he sometimes saw the female officer basking under the afternoon sun, a delicate testament to her past as a young and innocent girl from the countryside, but she wasn't there either. This only left a perturbation in his mind. Where's Hawkeye?

As Mustang paced aimlessly along the tiled hallways of the headquarters, deep in thought and filled with vexation, he felt an impulse to check an old meeting room that had been abandoned following a renovation in the military headquarters that produced more spacious and more comfortable conference halls. He stood before the closed door and heard faint, irregular, labored breaths. Seeing that the door was unlocked, Mustang invited himself inside the small room.

In a corner just below a window pane through which ribbons of sunlight pierced, Mustang saw the blonde officer he had been looking for. Hawkeye sat with her back against the wall, her forehead kissing her raised knees as she hugged her legs to her chest. Unaware of the witness who had just arrived, she was audibly struggling to gain control over her gasps.

Mustang rushed to her side, gently stroking her now-disheveled hair. "Hey, I'm here. You're safe," the colonel whispered. But she didn't need to hear those words. His company was enough to ease her panic attack. •

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't sleep because I was having a panic attack, and writing this somehow helped calm me.
> 
> I'm quite new to the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom, but I hope my depiction of the characters here were, at the very least, close to canon. I attempted to make this light-hearted at the beginning, but I somehow ended up with a heavier note than initially planned.
> 
> Please let me know what you like or don't like about my writing. I'm eager to improve my storytelling!


End file.
